Reverie
by Schierach
Summary: Wesley and Cordelia continue the prom night festivities on their own. (Complete.)


**Title:** Reverie  
**Fandom:** Buffy the Vampire Slayer  
**Setting:** S3, between "The Prom" and "Graduation Day"  
**Pairing:** Wesley/Cordelia  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** Self-indulgent Wes/Cordy goop. Wes is a bad, bad man.   
  


**Reverie**

  
  
The ride back to his apartment had been quiet, silent but for the soft purr of the engine beneath the sleek, sloping hood of his Jaguar. It had been a thoroughly pleasant evening, he thought. It was the first prom he had ever attended, though secondary school had long since passed him by, and those years had been little more than cheerless drudgery at an all-male preparatory. The evening had started off with a bit of culture shock, but he had adapted quickly, and had come to the conclusion that hors-d'oeuvres, dancing, and spiked punch all added up to a genuinely good time.   
  
And then, of course, there was Cordelia, who had decided that she didn't quite feel like letting go of Wesley's arm once the evening had ended. Now she accompanied him up the stairs, their footsteps resounding throughout the narrow hallway, then coming to a stop once they had reached the door to 6B. The door was unlocked and opened with minimal fumbling, and as Wesley reached to turn the light on, he found Cordelia's fingers closing over his wrist and pulling him away from the lightswitch, promptly shutting and locking the door with her other hand.   
  
There was still no need for words. A light tinkling of keys could be heard as Cordelia let her purse fall to the floor. Moments later they were kissing – it was their first, but by no means shy or chaste, months of pent-up tension finally being released in this frantic, demanding meeting of lips and tongues. Wesley allowed himself to emit a soft moan as Cordelia gently bit at his lower lip, though she quickly abandoned that tactic for a gentle sucking before breaking away and beginning to trail a few kisses along his jawline. He shivered as he felt her lips brush against the side of his neck, then quickly move to press a series of warm kisses against his throat, her thumb gently stroking against his cheekbone.   
  
"Bedroom," she whispered between kisses, which were growing in number and intensity and drew a faint whimper from somewhere in the back of Wesley's throat. He hesitated for but a moment, then put his arm around Cordelia's waist and gently pulled her towards the bedroom. He was very aware of the fact that they were moving along quite rapidly, but he quickly realized that he simply didn't care. They were being driven by months of untold lust and possibly love, and reason didn't enter into the equation anymore.   
  
Cordelia decided to take charge. She was no longer playing the coquette. Pushing Wesley towards the bed, she sat him down and eased herself into his lap, one arm remaining around his neck and shoulders and she resumed kissing him, feeling just the slightest bit of stubble against her own lips whenever she dared to wander away from his. Wesley shivered and put his arms around her waist, pulling her closer in order to feel the warmth of her body through the thin fabric of her prom dress. It wasn't long before she had removed both his jacket and tie, and now even the first few buttons of his shirt were undone, baring the base of his throat to her. His glasses had been set aside with care, and Cordelia had begun to ease Wesley onto his back, the slit in her skirt that ran all the way up to her thigh giving her a considerable amount of freedom and allowing her to straddle him.   
  
"Corde--" he began, but no sooner had the first sounds of her name rolled off his tongue than Cordelia herself had pressed her finger to his lips, silencing him. His intention had been to insist they take things a bit slower, savor the moment, but he was easily mollified. A lingering kiss from the May Queen was all it took to quiet him. Besides, what was there to protest? Here he was, a man in his prime, about to couple with a beautiful girl who was just barely eighteen, but already worldly and eager to please. Cordelia's nimble fingers quickly unfastened the rest of his buttons, and Wesley's dress shirt was cast aside, left to pool on the floor while its owner attended to more pressing matters. The slender straps of her charcoal-colored gown had begun to slip off of her shoulders, some of the sparkle having worn off onto her skin during the course of the evening. She paid this no mind, leaning forward to trail another series of kisses down Wesley's chest as her deft hands skillfully removed his belt, her dark hair falling loose and framing her elegantly made-up face.   
  
"Wesley?" she asked him, looking up after placing another kiss just above his navel. The urgent whisper was quickly fading from her voice, and was being replaced by something akin to annoyance.   
  
Wesley craned his neck to get a better look at her, more than a bit impatient and almost desperately hoping that she would get back to the matter at hand. "Mm?" he intoned, unable to get out much more than a grunt in his current state.   
  
"We're supposed to be researching?"   
  
He was brought back to reality as a loud _thud_ announced the arrival of several books that had been dropped in front of him. The cold, hard wood he felt pressed up against his right cheek alerted him to the fact that he had fallen asleep, and indeed, as he took a moment to let his vision focus, he saw that he was not in his bedroom, but in the school library, surrounded by a large amount of obscenely dusty volumes that needed to be sorted through.   
  
"I'm sorry, did I--" Wesley began, groping about for his glasses, but Cordelia quickly cut him off.   
  
"Hop on board the train to sleepyland?" she asked critically, sitting down opposite him and taking a book from the top of the closest stack. "Yeah. Oh, and, just so you know? You snore," she informed him, opening the volume and beginning to skim the text as she thumbed through the pages.   
  
Wesley sighed and put on his glasses, taking a moment to straighten them before taking up a book of his own. Only in dreams... 


End file.
